Amanda: Failure Princess

Amanda: Moderately Successful Princess

2009-12-15T13:49:34-08:00

Ok, let's skip the ceremonious "Hi, I'm back!" post, as 90% of the people who once followed this poor, neglected blog are probably long gone.

Jumping right in, yes, I'm still alive. I still struggle with the everyday dark thoughts and it often feels like everything is about to come crashing down to rubble with a crystalline dust that will work its way into my lungs and steal my breath, but somehow, I'm still here, and I have found a company that wants to pay me to write things and essentially be me. And I'm in love, have an amazing dog, the best, most awesome friends, live in a beautiful, warm city, have a great wireless carrier, and haven't been stung by a bee in over ten years. It's sort of my dream life, except with way less money and way more feeling inadequate for no reason.

So, quick updates:

Partner = Joe (2 years!)

Dog = Cinder Eleanor, Princess Pom of Pomlandia

Job = Sex writing

I'll be updating this frequently, and you can also follow me on Twitter @failureprincess. Thanks to everyone who stuck by me through my recent changes and encouraged me to keep writing. True friendship means more than ever to me right about now.

target: women

2008-12-29T02:31:30-08:00

i have been feeling like a bit of a bummer these days, so anything that makes me smile is much appreciated. thanks to one of my favorite blogs, gaycondo, i have been introduced to the hilarity that is sarah haskins' "Target: Women" videos. she serves up brilliant comedic analyses on how the media, advertising specifically, targets women in bizarre and sometimes downright insulting ways.

this is familiar territory for me, as i think about this quite a bit, but sarah brings up some things i never really thought about before, like why birth control is sold as period control and not, um, BABY REDUCER. i guess it never occurred to me as a gay lady who takes birth control to control her periods (they are about 9-10 days otherwise) that most women who take the stuff do so to stay kidfree. with all the sexuality on tv, this is just kind of appalling. women have sex! FOR FUN!

here is the birth control video. it's LOL funny, so watch at work with caution.

this one on chick flicks had joe and i both in hysterics over "friend-o's" alone.

and finally, this one made me laugh a lot...

because it's true, then days later i heard about this:

splenda with fiber!!! fiber in your artificial sweetener. talk about a target audience.

of course you know, however, i WILL be purchasing this. i love a little extra boost of fiber. i'll let you know how it works.

counsel

2008-12-15T01:02:42-08:00

most of the time i feel like my entire being has been insulated with wet cotton. is it possible to be so frantic and still so disconnected? i suppose it is. i mean, i know it is.

today when i dropped joseph off at the airport (did i tell you he is spending the holidays away? three weeks to be exact), it was the most peculiar thing. i had been building up this despair, this rage against the whole injustice of him leaving, yet during that tearful goodbye, and yes, i did cry, there was that cotton. familiarly soft, decidedly dull.

it's not that i won't miss him. every few hours i remember he is gone and i feel the panic rise. surely there is something wrong with me. or is that what being in love is? craving the smell of someone? his touch. his voice first thing in the... well, let's be real here, afternoon. i don't know, i didn't think i was like that. the wet cotton would not approve.

i've been up to a lot these days. every week i go into the gay and lesbian center for counseling. my therapist is an intern, which i fully expected. what i did not really expect, foolishly, was a girl of around my age in tight jeans and high heels with a sassy haircut. a straight one, at that ( i have excellent gaydar). most of my past therapists have been aging lesbians in some degree of frosted hair and sandaled foot. i didn't know what to think at first, but just as i was getting a little more comfortable with her, i found out last week that they are transferring me into a group setting. i understand their motives. my therapist is young and gentle. that's not to say she doesn't know what she's doing, i just don't think the higher-ups think she has the chops to rip me apart and make me put myself back together. although, she was certainly clever enough to call that i needed further evaluation regarding the issue the group therapy deals with. it's complicated. i might talk about it and i might not. truthfully, i am devastated and upside down about it, and i haven't had the time to allow myself to deal with that. it was an unexpected diagnosis.

it almost makes me wonder if she is right across the board. what i mean is, she suggested i make an appointment with the nurse practitioner who dispenses psychiatric medication to those in need. at first i thought, "rookie. is that what they teach you kids in school now? dope up the masses?" then she let me talk for a few more sessions. she said "you must be tired." and she is right. the anxiety level in my life has become completely unmanageable. the things about myself i used to see as funny quirks have turned into knife-wielding thugs, circling on motorcycles. that being said, if i wasn't fighting them off, i have a feeling i would be tremendously lonely, or extraordinarily successful.

i do not know which is more unnerving.

spanx

2008-11-20T04:30:41-08:00

i'm still here, you know. i know some people read this every day and i'm sorry i am a bad blogger (friend? i'd like to think we are friends).

my life is so hectic right now, and yet nothing has changed except my job status, i'm back on the pill (emo wreck but no more epic periods), i now own a pair of very uncomfortable spanx, and i have put way more things in my vagina and ass since last time we talked.

oh yeah, i guess i officially have no shame. before it was like, "OMG, does she have no shame?" and now it's like "SHE HAS NO SHAME!" but i don't care because it's a living. i feel like i am being more true to myself than ever. wait, i just realized that sounds like i am totally a prostitute. i'm not, even though it would be completely valid and okay if i was (but probably not okay with joe). actually, as i mentioned, i work in a sex shop now.

it has taken over much of my life and, as i said, i cannot figure out how to write about it, or even how to fit writing into my daily life other than the writing i do for work. writing about working and it's many pains is one of my favorite things to do, but right now i love my job, and to write too candidly about it would be betraying a certain trust. i feel like it can, or must, be done for the survival of this blog, but i have yet to figure it all out.

anyway, re: the spanx, i only bought them because i had to go to a wedding. normally i shun spanx and other control top hosiery because, while we can all use a nip in the tum, i don't really like restraining my bubble butt. it's one of my few physical features i actually like, and although it seems to get flatter with age and weight gain, i still try to flaunt it as much as possible. i always thought they should make those things assless. the other reason i hate them is that they tend to roll down at the waist band, which, instead of a flat surface, bisects the tummy area and creates TWO distinct rolls. unsexy.

i decided to give these a go because i really needed a smooth back silhouette for the thin fabric of my dress, and these particular spanx promised to be high-waisted, thereby doing away with waist-roll and smoothing all the way up to the bra line. well, they work. the reason they work is that an ULTRA TIGHT band at the top goes around your ribs. it took me about 10 minutes to get them on and the whole time i was wearing them, i literally could hear my bones straining. now, three days later, i still have bruises on my ribs. i ended up taking them off halfway through the wedding because after the second time of having to painfully remove them and squeeze them back on to use the toilet, i was done.

i wish i could say that i am totally done with this torture device, but alas, i feel like they could come in handy at some point. plus, and i didn't notice this until i took them off, the crotch is actually open. there are like, two overlapping flaps instead of solid fabric. could this convenient hole be what i think it is? probably not, but i'd be lying if i said i'm not entertaining the idea.

down UNDER

2008-11-14T05:47:46-08:00

this might be my second post titled that. LOL.

anyway, as if we needed another reason why australia is so much more awesome than the usa, check out this commercial michael k. posted on Dlisted yesterday:

banned in the usa, of course! this is the kind of marketing genius we need. it's a BIG FRIENDLY BEAVER. hillllarious!

anyway, speaking of beavers...

well, wait, i know most of you are waiting with bated breath (haha) for me to speak out on the recent injustice of Proposition 8 passing in my state of CA, but truthfully so many of my great blogging colleagues have spoken up so eloquently on the subject, i just don't feel it necessary just now. i'm sure it will come up again because this is shaping up to be THE topic and THE civil rights issue of our time, but my sadness and anger has, through all the marching i have done (and will continue to do starting this saturday), turned into hope, real hope and pride in my community. it just doesn't seem to warrant a rant at this time.

BUT, i will take you on a small mini-rant regarding another injustice.

moist wipes.

first of all, let me be clear, i am part of the faction of society that hates the word "moist." god almighty, do i hate it! i also never thought i would buy moist wipes. i have friends who always have a pack of moist wipes or baby wipes by their toilets and i would just think to myself, "really? triple-ply paper is not enough, huh? gotta have a wet bum, huh? i don't get it." add that to the fact that one of my main pet peeves, as you may know, is to be damp in any way unless i am showering or swimming, and there you have it.

well, as we are all aware, life tends to take one on different journeys and minds and hearts can always be changed. as it turns out, wipes are great to have around for pre- and post-sex freshening. at my work (oh yeah, i work at a sex shop now. more on that later. maybe.) we have things called like SexxNaps or CumCleen, but truthfully unless they are anti-bacterial and being used to clean toys and such, plain baby wipes or moist wipes do the job and are way cheaper. so, yeah, even though usually i like things with sex-related names or that smell like mango or have a specific purpose and snappy packaging (i am an ad executive's dream), i have been feeling pretty thrifty lately, so i decided to head out to the local target for this wipe expedition.

i don't usually buy generic brand products. i know it's RIDIC and wrong, but i am a 27 year-old woman that has grown to know and love her Opti-Free brand contact lens solution and i know the CVS brand says "compare to Opti-Free" on the side and costs half the price, but i do not care! well, for some reason, i tend to make many exceptions to this when it comes to target brand. i don't know if it's because it is a name i trust or if it's the clean, appealing packaging, or even the quirky commercials, but i feel okay with target brand.

as further evidence that i am rapidly turning into a memaw, my new favorite thing is reading ingredients and comparing prices on EVERYTHING, even wet wipes. as i did this, i discovered that the target brand actually seemed to have the fewest confusing ingredients (hydrogenated oils are in some of the other brands. i know they won't clog my arteries from there, but still, do i want to rub them on my precious gem? not really) and were (duh) the cheapest. i decided to then check out some of the ones that are made specifically for women. this makes no sense, as the products are essentially the same, but i tend to be drawn to products for women. my old roomate ashlee made so much fun of me the time i got athlete's foot from standing in the salon all day and bought anti-fungal foot creme for women. what? it was purple and had extra moisturizers! and she still stole it and used it all when she needed it. anyway, in doing this comparison between the wet wipes, i discovered that the target brand wipes for women have the same ingredients, fewer wipes, yet are more expensive than the general ones! and the packaging is far-less user-friendly! very upsetting indeed.

i mean, we all know these "for women" products are a ploy, even i know that, but i guess i expected better from the normally fine value that is target generics. i almost purchased cotonelle, always, or even loves baby wipes in protest, but in the end the low low price, simple ingredients, and e-z pop box of the target brand wet wipes won me over. maybe i will say "screw the man" and refill the box with unscented baby wipes when i'm done with them.

they say it's the small victories.

signs

2008-11-11T05:40:37-08:00

if you ask me, one shouldn't look at things as "signs" of something else. it just gets very confusing, and more times than not, you end up losing sight of the big picture.

last night joe and i were having a... discussion about the fact that he is thinking he might want to move back to portland sooner than he thought after being done with school. i always said i could go there for a few years, but not forever because a) i love l.a. b) bad weather depresses me REALLY bad, and c) i am beyond close to my family. right now i am really loving my work, also, which is new for me and i am hoping to build a foundation from that.

the idea of not being with joe in the end hadn't really crossed my mind,so the conversation really shook me.

when i got home, my mom told me my uncle had a seizure and we rushed to the hospital to be with him, my aunt, and my cousins. i took this immediately as a sign that i can never leave. i couldn't even imagine being so far away at times like this, when my family does what it does best and rallies around each other for comfort and strength.

then, i thought of my aunt and uncle and how they are one of the very few couples i know who i truly admire. their marriage just really seems to work and after all these years they love each other so much. one would be incredibly lucky these days to find that in their lifetime, and if i truly feel i have found it, which i do, i would be a fool not to hold onto it for dear life, to go to the ends of the earth for it. could this be a sign?

truthfully, all i care about now, having just gotten home from the hospital, is that it seems my uncle is making a full recovery from the incident last night, and all i hope for is that the following tests show that he is out of harm's way.

but it does have me thinking. i've looked for love everywhere my entire life, hoped for it, prayed and wished for it. in searching for a sign, i always forget to see the path in front of me. this time i don't know where it's going to lead, but i do know that i don't have to choose which kind of love i want, or hold it down in place. it won't go away. it won't disappear as long as i nurture it from within and point it in the right directions, i know this.

it flows back. it never ends.

what will the homo revolution look like?

2008-11-10T00:02:38-08:00

well, my friends, i'm sure it will have many faces, but one of my favorites is this picture of my friend from the LA Times online.

an open letter to my former parish

2008-10-28T00:38:05-07:00

Dear St. Therese Parish,

I am writing this letter to state how shocked and appalled I am by you allowing signs supporting Proposition 8 to be posted on your property.

Yes, I am well-aware of the Catholic Church's stance on homosexuality, and thusly on gay marriage, however, there are a few things I would like you to know, if not fully understand or accept.

I was born into a Catholic family and attended Catholic school for eight happy years, four of which were on your very grounds. I am proud of my background for many reasons, spiritual and otherwise. One of the things that makes me most proud to be a Catholic are the teachings I learned from Christ and from the community.

What I learned in Catholic school, and what I will keep with me for the rest of my life, are Christ's teachings on social justice. I learned that Jesus did not look down upon others, and in fact taught us that we are entrusted with the welfare of the poor and meek, the outcast and forgotten. I learned to value love and equality above all things. I am choked-up, as I write this, to realize the hypocrisy that you, or we, as representatives of the Church are displaying openly for the world and community to see.

By displaying signs that support a proposition that intends to alter the California constitution to take away civil rights from a certain law-abiding sector of the population, you are supporting a grave injustice.

The fact is that as a homosexual woman, I have to disagree with you on your belief that the way I was born and choose to openly live is an abomination, and I do regret that I will never be able to marry within your walls, however, I respect your right as a religious institution to believe, teach, and uphold your ideals. There is no question of that, and I do not know anyone who truly opposes your right to enforce that inside your Church community.

What I need you to know, what I am sure of, is that one of these Catholic ideals is not and has never been bigotry and the denial of basic civil rights to American citizens, or citizens of the world at large. At the end of my life, I will be judged for my choices, one of which, incidentally, was not to be gay, but I feel confident in the knowledge that I have and will continue to do right by the teachings I learned as a little girl, to treat all those around me with honor and respect, even if I disagree with certain aspects of their lives, and that it would be inherently wrong to make or enforce laws to treat those people differently. If anything, we, your gay and lesbian brothers and sisters, are often downtrodden by society, and as such are some of the very people whom Jesus taught His followers to look after.

I do not expect to change your mind regarding homosexuality because of this letter. That is not my aim. What I do want to say is that having these signs in my neighborhood and on the property of a parish I once belonged to and occasionally attend is extremely offensive. To many, including myself, this is no different than displaying propaganda seeking to ban interracial marriage, which we must remember was also once against the law. I do not believe you would allow someone to or choose to post racist or sexist signs on your property, and as these signs represent a similar prejudice, I would appreciate it if you would remove them immediately.

Respectfully,

Amanda-Faye

awkward

2008-10-21T03:10:34-07:00

so, a few weeks ago i was at a party where i didn't know that many people. for some reason everyone i knew kept coming and going in shifts, but i stayed because it was my friend's birthday and for some reason, even though i had only three drinks, i did not feel sober enough to drive (contact high? oh, marijuana, i DENOUNCE you!).

anyway, toward the end of the night i struck up what started as a very interesting conversation about queerness with a gay guy i had just met that night. i had stopped drinking because i planned on driving home at some point, but he was drinking straight whiskey, and as time wore on, our conversation became a little bizarre. basically, he was totally obsessed with the tv show "30 Rock", to the point where he was quoting it and asking me repeatedly if i watched it. i had seen it a few times, but don't get around to watching much primetime tv because of my schedule. i do think tina fey is hilarious. man, she sure is livin' the dream. i'd like to think i could have been like her if i had a little more self-confidence. and hotness. anyway, i digress. seriously, this guy would not shut up about how much he loved tina fey and how it was an absolute must that any guy he dated would be a big tina fey fan as well. not surprisingly, he had never had asteady boyfriend, but who am i to judge?

the next weekend, joe and i were trying to agree on a movie to rent at video hut. we have a real problem with this because for the most part he likes horror films and obscure comedies, while i like gay movies and french films. i know, i know. so, i saw season 1 disc 2 of "30 Rock" in the tv section and said "hey, why don't we rent this?" and he agreed. i don't think i have ever laughed that hard at a tv show in my whole life. alec baldwin may be nutmuffins, but he is a fucking comic timing genius! and tracy morgan... and kenneth the page! i finally feel like i have been let-in on a billion inside jokes i've seen all over the internet. "live every week like it's shark week." LOL! this may be the greatest comedy show on network tv today. i just finished the rest of season 2, which i drove to two different blockbuster videos to get, and i have to say, i can hardly wait until october 30th, when the new season starts! i can't believe i have to watch it in real time. i'm gonna die from one week to the next! and i'm never home on thursday nights. i need tivo now.

i guess the point of all that is, thanks socially awkward drunken gay guy, for opening my eyes to the wonders of "30 Rock." i'm sorry i doubted you, and i'm sorry i was too intoxicated to give you a ride home.

speaking of social awkwardness, i am having a hard time with that myself right now. in general, i always considered myself a pretty social person. i mean, i have a lot of friends and acquaintances. i make a lot of jokes, and people seem to laugh at them. i introduce myself to others and i am, for the most part, pretty good at introducing people to each other. i always try to make people feel comfortable in groups if they don't know a lot of people... i don't know, i guess i thought i was pretty good with people and a decent to good conversationalist. recently, as i have embarked upon this journey of self-discovery and healing, i realized that truthfully i am not really that great at being present in conversations. i listen and react, but there is always a part of me that isn't fully there in social situations. instead of growing socially as an adult, i think i have been more of a show pony, rode hard and put away wet, and now here i am, wanting desperately to have true intellectual connections with people, but not knowing where to start. most people i come into contact with more than once know my life story, or at least the funny parts, but there are only a handful of people who i would say truly know me. it makes me sad to think this, because there are people i can honestly say i wish i could get to know better and want to let get to know me, but i need to re-learn how to get there with someone.

and then there are times when i really don't feel worth knowing in the first place. i've been trying to think positively and do positive things for myself, but it creeps in on almost a daily basis. it's hard to go from feeling like an unstoppable party girl to a totally awkward freak who can't talk to anyone without cringing, but i realize that it's part of the learning process. plus, i know awkward isn't always bad. after all, tina fey has turned slightly awkward into the american dream, at least for the funny but imperfect.

living ghosts

2008-10-15T03:47:46-07:00

those of you who know me or read my blog regularly know that i was very close with my grandfather growing up and that my grandfather now suffers from alzheimer's disease. he has lived in a nursing home for about three or four years, i think.

the years have sort of escaped me because, as you also may know, i rarely visit him for my own personal reasons that only i can wrestle with. i hope it doesn't make you think less of me as a person. it's really a lovely place, as far as nursing homes go, and the staff is (apparently) wonderful, but every time i go there, i inevitably end up running out in tears, so for the most part the only times i see my poppo are when they bring him out to special family events or just to visit. he can't be out too long because he starts to get antsy and uncomfortable. people with alzheimer's do not like to be far from home, and that place is his home, now.

once upon a time he lived with me. or rather, i lived with him, my grandma, my aunt, and my mother. it was a happy home, if somewhat filled with grown-ups. i remember being small and sitting at his desk. i don't think i ever knew what it was he did at that desk. maybe it belonged to my mother or my aunt, but i associated it with poppo because he was the one with all the papers. he had so many papers and letters, stacked and wrapped with rubber bands, on the desk, in his dresser, and in the drawers of his bathroom.

then there were the pens. there were pens everywhere. he seemed partial to black pens cinched at the waist with silver rings and with a sliver clicker at the top. i loved those pens. i would sit at the desk and play all the time. my favorite things to do were to write words and draw (poorly) on legal pads and envelopes, swivel around in the old 70s desk chair that was upholstered in marigold, and press the buttons on the fluorescent desk lamp on and off over and over again. this may not sound fun, but there was something i liked about the way the lamp buzzed loudly and glowed softly if you pressed the button lightly, but then went into a quiet hum and bright glow when you really gave it a good, hard press.

the more i think about this, the more i am starting to understand my unreasonable fondness for office supplies.

anyway, i thought of poppo today as i looked online for a vintage desk lamp to go on the desk i rescued from the streets of echo park. the desk is old, cheaply made wood painted a 70s shade of peachy-pink. i hope to fill the drawers with pens and paper goods and use its surface to write all the things i will never get to show my poppo. he is alive and full of love in his heart, i know this, but he is not with me as i wish he could be. when i'm at my grandma's house, where his dresser still stands, i feel like i can almost see him shuffling about from desk to drawer, stack of papers in hand. sometimes i really do have to take a second look to really know he's not there. it scared me the first time. it frightened me that i could see this ghost, while he is still very much (thankfully) alive.

now i just think of it as a moving memory. a beautiful memory, like the kind that comes to you from the scent of jasmine on a summer breeze, only mine is more like the smell of aging paper and the gentle drone of a fluorescent bulb.